


Seventy-Two Minutes

by edka88



Category: Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 12:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6283735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edka88/pseuds/edka88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She left him with a promise of returning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks for the continued support of all those wonderful people who favourited, subscribed or reviewed. And of course a special thanks to my dear friend and editor, Masha, for her great ideas and encouraging words.:)

The warm breeze of her breath swept over his nape, followed shortly by the soft brush of her nose across his skin as she drew it along his hairline.

The shiver that ran through him in return she must have felt, too, especially so since only a moment later her hand came to a rest on his chest; the small weight of it making him ever more conscious of the slight grip of her fingers on his lapel as her stomach pressed against his when she leant even closer.

"I love your scent," she whispered against his skin, brushing her nose down his neck before she sealed the movement with a wet kiss just below the collar of his shirt.

He wasn't aware of the delicate tremor that ran through him until she pulled back, the cold air of her dressing room washing over him on all the places that had been previously warmed by her.

Her name left his lips almost without his bidding. "Christine..."

"I have to go," she said demurely but the smile in her eyes glowed with the same desire that she had just awoken in him.

With a brief kiss to his lips she was already out of the door, the soft click of the lock seeming to echo in the now silent room.

His eyes remained riveted to the door, her suggestive kiss still tingling on his neck.

_Seventy-two minutes._

A long shiver ran through him at the mere thought of it.

Only seventy-two minutes and she would come back to finish what she had just started.

The pleasant burning inside of him only grew with her absence as he continued to stand motionless. He should be leaving, though, making his way up to Box 5 if he didn't want to miss the beginning of Act One.

The memory of her husky voice echoed in his ears and his fingers raked through his hair in a restless sweep.

A voice that was all his. No one else got to hear it but him.

A voice that dripped of desire – and it was all for him.

He shivered again and closed his eyes to pretend even for a moment that she was there beside him... her weight pressing down on his stomach... her legs wrapped around his hips... or her back arching beneath him...

His eyes opened with a gasp and he reached for his pocket watch.

_Seventy minutes._

_What a shamefully long time until the interval._

Slipping the watch back into his pocket he finally managed to will his limbs into moving and he started for the mirror. The light of the lamp seemed to burn brighter before he turned it down and despite the all-consuming anticipation his body seemed to be lighter, too...

_I love your scent._

His heart swelled with a pleasant warmth as he stepped into the tunnels.

She had wanted him from the very beginning despite that he had not dared to imagine that such a thing could be true. It had been her who had convinced him that he should not sleep in a separate bedroom on their wedding night out of sheer courtesy – and that in fact, she would be a lot more pleased if he stayed with her for the night. Considering how much more the act had imposed on her she had been a lot less frightened than him – if she had been at all.

But pleased she had been.

He had never really understood how she had not been disgusted; not just of his face but of his desire for her, either – Heaven knows that he had been. For a long while, after he had realized that his feelings for his pupil had run much deeper than they had had while she had been just a child he had been unwilling to accept them for what they were. Then had come shame, for she had always been a sublime creature: pure, talented, beautiful, full of potential – and completely undeserving of the humiliation that was his desire for her, even if he had never intended to let her know about it. As if he had committed a crime against her without her knowledge.

The last had been guilt, as all of his noble principles had failed eventually.

And yet she hadn't minded that she had been subjected to his desire for her.

His lips curved into a small smile.

In fact, she wouldn't want to hear that she had been _subjected_ to anything that night – and he fully believed her. That night, she had been quite adamant in showing that his feelings had not been unrequited – and she had never ceased to express her desire for him ever since then.

His hand twitched as a memory from last night came to his mind.

Well, she certainly didn't feel offended by his wanting of her.

Leaving the tunnels he made his way towards the stairs, the sound of a single oboe blending into the distant murmur of the audience.

Almost a year had passed since then yet the novelty of the feeling hadn't worn off. He wasn't sure that he ever wanted to get used to it. Every day he was reminded how loved he was – and also that she loved being loved by him. She was certainly quite thorough in expressing it...

The way her voice broke on his name when...

Before the thought could unfold any further he skipped on the rest of the steps, taking three at a time before he dashed into Box 5 somewhat short of breath.

_Later._

He would only think of that later.

Blood was pounding in his ears and he let out a calculated, long sigh.

_Sixty-seven minutes._

He would hold her again in sixty-seven minutes.

He took his usual seat somewhat uneasily but then jumped up immediately and started for the other end of the box before suddenly turning around as he reached it.

_Sixty-six and a half._

The starting chords of the overture rang out.

After another circle around in the box he managed to sit down again.

_Sixty-five minutes._

There came the soft click of a door from the neighbouring box – someone had just arrived.

And then, at last, _she_ appeared on stage.

A waft of her scent swept over him despite that he knew she was too far.

The drumming started over again in his ears and his fingers curled into the armrest as she glanced up at him.

_I love your scent._

His heart gave an almost startlingly forceful beat and his thumb swept over the ring on his finger.

Before her, he had thought that he was far too repulsive to ever be the object of any woman's desire.

He was well aware that his face had not changed since she had married him, and experience had taught him well not to believe that it ever would; and all he had committed only added to the monstrosity. She, however, looked at him as if no other man could rival him; and as much as old fears, fears that had taught him that anything that might make him happy would not last or was not true had become second nature long ago, he didn't believe them anymore.

_Sixty-two minutes._

In sixty-two minutes the most coveted woman in the theatre would return to him; _him_ , whom she deemed worthy enough to be her lover.

Never before had he been so close to being proud of himself.


	2. Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers! Many of you requested a follow-up to this story, so here it is! I guess that you might suspect the topic of this piece, but still: please note that this chapter is rated M. For those of you who are OK with that, I hope you'll like it.:)
> 
> As always, a million thanks for my dear friend and editor for her help, time and encouragement, and also for her invaluable suggestions and especially for her patience. Thank you, Masha! :)

_Finally._

M. Goffinet just never knew when to stop talking; he continued to talk to her even though – Christine was sure – she had made quite an explicit sign that she wished to leave. In the end, though, he was called away to greet a very important someone, and then she was finally free.

Not as if M. Goffinet had dishonourable intentions towards her – or of he had, she certainly didn't notice – but she had never met anyone who talked so incessantly as he did. And sadly, mostly about completely irrelevant matters.

Pushing through the crowd Christine started towards her dressing room, dodging groups of people while deliberately looking to the other side whenever she spotted someone distantly familiar. Around her, laughter blended into the noise of various praises for the ballet girls and all the voices merged into one, loud jumble of conversation that left no room even for thoughts.

_Except for one, of course._

Her heart gave an excited thump, calling her attention once more to the pleasant tingling in her stomach.

_Only one minute now._

Someone bumped into her from the side but they were thankfully gone after a curt apology.

She let out a relieved sigh and continued to march forward.

“What an inspired performance, Mme. Daaé! Such passion!” she heard a voice emerging from the jumbled noises around her and she was almost positive that the startled jolt that ran through her was visible even from afar. But as she turned towards the source of the words she saw a man whose name she had forgotten – or hadn't bothered to memorize at all – waving at her thankfully from across a group of people gathered around one of the ballerinas.

_Thank Heavens._

“Thank you, Monsieur,” she bowed to him before ducking into the small corridor that led to her dressing room.

Her door was now just a few steps away and she was almost surprised to notice the slight twitch in her wrist at seeing the door so close.

_Finally._

All through Act I she could barely think of anything else but the strained lilt in _his_ voice as he had called after her, the gentle tremor that had shaken him at her kiss... the light sweep of his lips against her neck last night... the warm brush of his palm on her thigh...

She shivered and bit down on her lip.

_Not here._

“Christine!”

Breath caught in her lungs Christine tensed and halted in her track, relaxing a moment later when she realized that it was only Meg, passing the corridor on her way for the costume change for Act II.

“Christine, you've been amazing!” Meg enthused, looking aroundin search of any unwanted listeners before coming closer. “I've never heard you sing that aria like that before! So much passion!”

_You have no idea..._

“Thank you,” Christine said instead, managing a smile while trying not to think of the light sweep of his lips on her shoulders... her chest... her...

“Would you like to join us for a short talk? During the intermission,” she heard Meg's voice, and Christine could just barely swallow a startled gasp.

“No,” she blurted out, maybe a bit too quickly. “Thank you. There are a few... aspects of my role that I have to discuss with Erik before Act II begins.”

If Meg noticed the slight stutter in her made-up explanation, she gave no sign of it. She simply nodded before saying, “See you in fifteen minutes, then,” and with a skip, she disappeared around the corner.

_Fifteen minutes._

_Not much – but certainly enough._

Finally, Christine stepped into her dressing room.

“I've never seen such a long first act,” Erik greeted her immediately.

“Was it so dull?” She asked him while turning the key in the lock.

Warm hands encircled her waist. “I have no idea. I could only think of you,” he admitted in a low murmur before leaning down to kiss her, and her hand flew up to caress his face. As much as she was used to it by now she still couldn't completely suppress the excited shiver that ran through her at feeling the uneven surface beneath her palm – he never wore the mask when the two of them were alone, not since that first morning right before their wedding. Even after almost one year of marriage she was still thrilled by the fact that he didn't mind her seeing him without the mask – she was well aware that nobody else was allowed to, and even he himself avoided looking at his own reflection. She knew him well enough to know the reason behind it: to protect himself from the resurfacing waves of disappointment and contempt.

_She,_ however, was allowed to see.

The knowledge always left her with a breathless elation.

His hands on her back slid along the fastening of her bodice, and she could barely swallow a disappointed whine when he made no movement to open it.

“We don't have much time,” she reminded him in a gasp, her own hands straying to slip beneath his coat. “The intermission is only fifteen minutes.”

“It'll be enough,” he breathed against her lips, skimming them with his own before probing for more. Her lips parted almost entirely on their own accord to let him deepen the kiss, and her fingers curled into his back when finally his tongue brushed against hers.

The long-awaited feeling of _home_ made her feel strangely dizzy, and that, combined with the warm sweeps of his breaths on her face left no room for other thoughts. Dimly she remembered something about fifteen minutes... but she didn't really recall what it was. Strong arms pulled her closer and she felt his chest rising and falling against her with the deep breaths he took while the subdued heat from his body highlighted the striking contrast with the passion of his kiss. After a few moments his lips left hers and began to trace a long path of wet kisses along her face, then continued it down her throat. Her soft moan rang out in the room before she remembered that she was to remain silent – but when his grip tightened around her at the sound she could barely recall the reason why.

His lips never faltered in their movements along her skin, and – she gasped aloud – occasionally his tongue joined them as well... not exactly licking, but rather... dabbing at her skin...

… while his hands found the fastening of her bodice. The material stretched slightly as he got hold of it before he relieved her of it completely a moment later.

His hands were immediately searching for the opening of her chemise.

“Just the bodice and the skirt,” she mumbled against his lips. He pulled back slightly and gave her a quizzical look. “I won't have time to put everything back on,” she explained once she had found her breath to speak again.

Hands completely still around her, he asked, “Why those, then?” But only half a moment later he continued, “Oh, for the costume change.”

“Uh-hm,” she hummed, and this time it was her who leaned up to kiss him. His replying shiver sent a jolt through her as well, and excitement seemed to sizzle in her veins. _So long._ She had been waiting for this since the performance had started.

Considering the way his hands trembled on her back he was no less impatient than she was.

Blindly she slipped her hands between the two of them but then let out a frustrated sigh when her fingers cold just barely grasp his tie. She pulled back and tried to unfasten it now with a bit more success.

“I thought we had no time,” he said, but his tone of resentment was clearly just pretended.

“We don't,” she agreed, pulling one end of the tie free and dropping it behind them. “But you _will have_ after I've returnedto the stage,” she pointed out, starting to unbutton his shirt.

“That's not fair,” he complained, his hands sliding along the sides of her breasts before coming to a halt on her waist. The warmth of his palm seeped through even the many layers of her underclothes and her heart skippedthe next beat. “I want to touch you, too.”

“You can touch anything under my skirt,” she offered with a suggestive smile, pushing the tailcoat from his shoulders.

After a wet kiss to her neck and a trembling exhale he let go of her and started to gather her skirts with both hands, only stopping for a short fumble when she relieved him of the waistcoat as well.

“Thank Heavens it's not one of those cage things,” he muttered, trying to keep her skirt and several petticoats in place at her hips.

“Leave it to me,” she said breathlessly, taking the skirts from him.

It was not much of an improvement, though, as a moment later she heard his disheartened exhale. “You're still wearing too much.”

Colour rose in her cheeks as the thought occurred to her. “Well, you have to be creative.”

“You mean that...” He stopped suddenly and blinked at her a moment later. “...while you're still wearing it?” He finished at last.

“I certainly can't take it off,” she replied, and was surprised to notice the excited extra beat her heart gave at the thought. Until now, this kind of intimacy was confined to their bedroom – or, she corrected herself with a blush that was more contended than embarrassed, at least to their home – never before had the two of them engaged in it anywhere else. And that she would be technically fully clothed during it...

Her stomach gave a pleasant twitch and she had to press her thighs together.

“No matter,” he agreed in a breathless whisper, and once more his hands appeared at her hips. One of them slowly slid aroundto her back while the other wandered downward until it reached the flap of her drawers, and she held her breath as he finally swept the flimsy material aside.

She promptly jolted in his arms when his fingers brushed against her at last.

“I take it that you didn't jump from surprise,” he teased, sweeping a long caress over the sensitive place to urge her to part her legs for him.

“I could hardly hide the evidence of having been wanting you for a long time,” she retorted playfully.

Modesty fought with pride in his smile in return of her words. “Indeed, not,” he admitted, kissing her briefly, but then his probing hand was already gone – to unfasten his belt and trousers, she realized a second later. Her wrists twitched with disappointment: _she_ longed to do it for him.

Logistics was a bit complicated with all the garments pooling around her waist. Glancing around, she started towards the wall: there was just enough room between the door and her vanity for her to brace her back against the tapestry-covered surface, and they managed to reach it without stumbling. His lips were once more on hers so her moan of excitement was somewhat muffled when one of his hands slid from her waist to sweep a long caress down her thigh before lifting it to his hips. Her hands now free, she reached up to finish unbuttoning his shirt.

A heartbeat later she stopped short, though, when one of the buttons flew from her grasp as she jolted: his hand on her thigh had started an upward caress and had stolen beneath the material of her drawers, gripping her bottom gently.

“I'm sorry,” she managed to blurt out in a choke, trying not to laugh. This was going not at all as graceful as she had imagined.

His eyes – that had followed the button to where it had fallen on the carpet – lifted to meet hers. “Never mind, it was loose anyway,” he replied, his hand moving with a light caress, and her back arched with a shiver.

Laughter was definitely more and more difficult to hold in, seeing the barely restrained delight in his gaze. “It wasn't, was it?” She asked him.

He shook his head, and she caught a glimpse of his smile before he leaned down to kiss her. “No, it wasn't.”

Getting rid of his shirt now was definitely easier, she noted with some embarrassment, and it was dropped to the floor soon afterwards. Once it was done she rested her palms on his chest for a moment, feeling his rapid heartbeat and the heat of his body on her skin... how his muscles moved with every breath he took... She could just...

_Not now._

She had to go back on stage sooner than she liked to think.

Moving her hands away she drew them along his sides, leaning forward to kiss at least the hollow of his throat. She heard his soft moan in return and felt the eager twitch in his arm that was holding her leg.

“Christine...”

“I know,” she replied, folding her arms around his neck. “Can you hold me up? If I lift my other leg as well.”

“Of course,” came his hoarse replyso she did fold her other leg around him as well, clasping her ankles together on his lower back.

A breath of time later she let out a deep sigh as finally his body pushed into hers.

“I missed you,” he whispered, closing his eyes briefly.

“Yes, me too” she breathed, revelling in the familiar pressure inside her. “No wonder I got complimented on the passion with which I sang in Act I.”

He shuddered against her. “Am I really that good?” He asked her while shifting slightly, and her thighs shook with a tremor.

“Oh, you are,” she smiled, burying her fingers in his hair. Tension was building up by the moment until it was impossible to remain still, and when she couldn't stop an impatient squirm he finally made a real movement. “So passionate,” she breathed into his neck, leaving an open-mouthed kiss on his skin before adding, “Considerate...” One of hands slid from her bottom to grasp her thigh for a moment while his lips wandered to her collarbone. A breath later he gently sucked on her skin, adding just a bit of graze of his tongue, and she had to bit down on her lower lip.

Considering the way his movements faltered for just a second he was still very much aware of the effect his ministrations had on her even without her voicing it.

_Later._

Later at home she would make sure that he would hear it, too.

“...skilful...” She continued in a gasp. One of her hands stroked a long path down his back, then continued the caress even lower until her palm finally stopped on his backside, gripping it softly. The muscles shifted beneath her palm with every one of his movements.

“Keep telling me things like this and 'patient' will not be listed among my qualities,” he retorted, burying his face in her neck to press a kiss to her nape.

A moment later he repeated it an inch lower and the uneven wave of his breath swept over her tingling skin.

“As a matter of fact, I'm short of it myself,” she admitted with a chuckle that quickly turned into a barely suppressedmoan.

In fact, the spiral wave of pleasure was already wound tight deep in her stomach, the familiar promise of imminent bliss burning with an ever-growing intensity. She lifted her ankles a bit to rest higher on his back and her eyes slipped shut as his movements deepened just the slightest bit in turn.

He clutched her tighter to him, and the heat of his body seemed to envelop her despite the many layers of her attire, making her very much aware of the few places that were currently uncovered.

Her fingers curled into his back.

Like the top of her breasts – now bathed in kisses.

When she shifted her thighs began to tingle with fatigue but she paid it no heed.

_Just a little longer..._

He looked up and their eyes met...

_So beautiful._

She wondered if he knew how much she loved his eyes.

And his hair... she had always been fascinated by his hair.

_So soft..._

Some of it fell to his eyes, and she leaned forward to kiss him as her hand brushed his hair back. His lips opened to invite her in, and she felt his effort trying to hold back a shudder as his body jolted against her when her tongue swept a light caress against his.

Then... she was floating.

...quite literally, she realized a moment later – one of his hands had flown up to cover hers, and the warmth of it spread out all over the back of her hand as he held it to his face.

Which meant that he was now holding her with only one arm.

For a moment she was only aware of the combined heat of their bodies as he kissed her back – but then everything faded into trembling breathlessness.

_I love you so much._

Her arms folded around his neck and her fingers curled into his back as her body tensed, but even through the haze of numbing bliss she could sense the moment when he followed her shortly.

A long, panting moment of nothing passed, flying in the familiar unknown of pleasure.

At last her muscles unfurled from the strain and her head drooped to his shoulder as the sudden peace flooded her limbs.

_Silence._

Or, rather, silent gasps for air – but whether it was hers or his she couldn't tell.

The numb floating of languor was still wrapped around them but bit by bit the thick fog of it began to dissolve, and gradually she became aware of the warm waves of his breath on her neck – and also that he was once more holding her with both arms. He must have replaced his arm at some point but try as she might, she couldn't remember when.

Her hand slid from his shoulders to draw a lazy caress down his upper arms, her fingers dipping into the valley of muscles that were still tense from the effort of keeping her against him.

Her grip on him tightened as a belated wave of pleasure tingled through her body.

“I didn't even touch you for this one,” he murmured against skin.

“Still is was caused by you,” she smiled, folding her arms around his neck, and she rather felt than heard his breathless chuckle in return.

“I love you, Christine.”

“I love you, too,” she echoed.

For a while neither of them said anything else, and she listened to his gradually slowing breathing as she breathed in his scent. Being in his arms was now as calming as it had been exciting before she had left for the performance not exactly two hours ago.

At last, it was his voice that broke the silence. “And I also love having... this,” he said, but his head was still resting against hers.

“A few furtive minutes between two acts?” She teased, moving her palms in a lazy caress on his back.

“No, the possibility of it.” With one last kiss breathed to her temple he lifted his head, but then only stole a brief glance at her. “I never imagined that having you as my wife would also mean this,” his voice trailed off as if in search of the most suitable word. “... casual mood. For a long while it had been almost unsettling that I didn't have to be on my guard when I was with you.”

From outside, the ringing of a bell seeped into the room, signalling that in a few minutes Act II was to begin. She heard the call, but was so preoccupied with the lump appearing in her throat that she paid it no heed. They still had a few more minutes, after all.

In the end she managed to draw a full breath but was still trying to gain control over her voice.

“When did you first notice it?” She managed to ask him at last, raking her fingers through his hair gently.

He didn't answer her immediately. “In the alley, I think. After the wedding. But I came to realize it later that night.”

“How?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. Perhaps... perhaps because you considered it so natural that we should spend the night together. As if neither my face nor my past hindered you from thinking of me as a man.”

“They didn't,” she whispered, and she wasn't sure that her smile wasn't a slightest bit watery when she beamed at him.

He leaned forward, brushing her lips with his. “I was so very terrified of disappointing you,” he admitted after drawing back.

“But you didn't,” she smiled at him, cupping his face before returning his kiss.

“I was... uncertain. And painfully aware of how inexperienced I was as well – and yet I never noticed you minding it.”

Something twisted around her stomach with the realization, “You had been looking for any possible signs, hadn't you?”

“You know me too well,” he admitted, hiding his face in her neck. “I'm sorry. I didn't know how not to.”

“Don't be,” she told him, stroking his upper arm lightly. “I know. And it's also long in the past.”

Even if he said nothing she learnt his answer – his eyes were full of emotions when at last his gaze met hers.

After a short silence he nodded reluctantly, then lowered her carefully back down to the floor with the combined efforts of the two of them. Before letting go of him completely, though, she couldn't resist kissing him deeply – and judging from the grateful look he gave her after they had parted, he knew exactly why he had received it.

She turned to reach for the bodice of her new costume with a small smile, and she heard the rustle of clothes as he began to dress as well. By the time she turned back to him after having pulled on her new bodice he had already fastened the clasp of his trousers.

“Would you?” She asked him, turning his back to him. He complied immediately, and finished the closing of her attire with a brush of his fingers to her nape. “Thank you,” she breathed, kissing him briefly on the lips.

He nodded in reply and reached for his shirt.

For a moment the room seemed to be filled with an ever thickening silence despite the rustle of their clothes.

“Were you really not afraid?” Came his faint voice at last.

“Of the wedding night?”

He nodded but said nothing.

“I heard the stories, of course,” she admitted, straightening her stockings before stripping the skirt from above her petticoats. “Of the pain and all.” She began to fasten the intricate-looking clasps of the fabric that ran across the front of her dress. In fact, it was the most simple construction. “But... well, there really had not been too many things that had remained secret in the dormitories.”

He gave her a quizzical look while his hands were trying to tuck in his otherwise still unbuttoned shirt-tails to the waist of his trousers.

“I also heard about the noble lovers,” she whispered with a telling hint in her voice and finally let go of the hem of her dress. “The considerate ones.”

He licked his lips while his eyes were visibly failing at trying not to plead with her. Of course he knew it already – but she was perfectly aware that he loved to hear it anyway.

Taking a step closer to him she placed her hands on his chest. “I was right, of course.” Starting on the lowest button she began to close his shirt, heat rushing to her cheeks when she had to skip the one that she had torn previously. The weight of his gaze seemed to follow all of her movements, and when finally she looked up at him after she had finished, he was indeed looking at her with eyes full of emotion.

Though the words were true, she still had to gain her courage to speak them aloud. “I'm so proud that you are my husband.”

He was staring at her without a word.

Blinked slowly.

Then his throat moved with a swallow.

At last he leant forward, capturing her lips in an intense kiss, and she thought she had heard something whispered against her lips, too; I love you, or was it thank you, perhaps...? Either way, she would have noticed his gratitude even if he had said nothing, and a lump began to form in her throat when he continued to kiss her after he had drawn back for a second a moment earlier, his fingers curling into her back as he pulled her closer.

When at last they pulled apart, there seemed to be a thin sheet of tears in his eyes, too, but since he quickly turned his gaze she pretended not to notice it.

She slid her palms to rest on his stomach – it was quivering beneath her touch.

“You've been amazing,” she told him in the hope of diverting his thoughts. One of his hands came to cover hers and gave it a soft squeeze, and she let out a soft sigh. “I promise to make up for the clothes after the performance,” she said with a smile.

His lips returned the gesture. “You just did,” he replied, tracing the still present smile on her lips with a soft sweep of his thumb and her stomach trembled briefly with emotion.

“Well, I believe you deserve something a bit more... substantial,” she replied, leaning up for another kiss.

From outside, the sound of another shrill ringing drifted into the room – Act II was to begin within one minute. Reluctantly, they pulled apart.

“I should have thought of increasing the length of the intermission,” he murmured, brushing her ring with a thumb.

“Well, it was just long enough,” she offered with a smile, some of the weight melting from her chest when the corner of his lips curled a little upward.

“Still, I would prefer to have you with me for a bit longer.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, surprised to hear how suggestive those few words became even without her meaning to. “After the performance,” she promised, reaching out to retrieve his tie from the vanity on her left.

He nodded and took it from her, breathing a kiss to the back of her knuckles before letting go of her hand.

“See you in sixty-five minutes, then,” she said, and with one final caress to his face, she was already out of the door.

\- o -

Even after the door closed behind her, he stood motionless.

After a while he thought of tying his cravat back on but his hands refused to move.

_I'm so proud that you are my husband._

His eyes began to tingle once more and briefly he wondered if he should give into the emotions as he almost had had when he first had heard it.

_But... no._

Act II was only sixty-five minutes.

He swallowed back the tears and draped the tie around the collar of his shirt with a determined movement.

_Not now._

He tried to focus on how the two ends of the tie formed the knot while he let out a controlled exhale.

That she loved him he had already known. That she was proud...

He let out a shaky sigh.

Sometimes he suspected that it was so but he never really allowed himself to believe it. The mere idea seemed obscene! Proud of him... with a past that was better left untold... or a face that should have never been uncovered... and especially for being what he was.

The sound of the orchestra playing seeped into the room as he put the rest of his attire back on. His hand lingered for a moment above the mask before he finally replaced that, too.

For her, none of those seemed to be too decisive, and certainly not as condemning as he himself considered them. She just... accepted them, and thought very rarely of what had happened not exactly a year ago. And as for his face...

His head bowed deeply.

As laughable as the thought sounded it still seemed she barely noticed it anymore.

He looked around the room one last time before leaving, just to confirm they had not left anything telling around in case someone visited the room, when he spotted the button of his shirt lying on the floor. He stooped down to retrieve it, his lips pulling into a small smile almost involuntarily.

_Dear, sweet Christine._

Despite having been married for months, heat still rushed to his face at recalling how the button had come undone, and maybe he shouldn't have been but still, he was certainly proud of himself. She... she loved what he was doing and how he was doing it and... she loved that it was _him_ who was doing it.

_Proud of him._

Even if she knew about all the things why she shouldn't be.

He had to close his eyes for a moment, willing his emotions into compliance. It wouldn't do for her to find him in a state like that when clearly she had every intention to continue where they had left off – and wallowing in self-pity was certainly not a tempting alternative compared to what she had promised.

He drew in a slow, controlled breath and let it out in a similar exhale.

When at last he opened his eyes again the button was still lying on his palm. His fingers closed around the small object and he sunk it into his pocket.

Maybe he wouldn't sew it back, he mused as he turned down the lamp and finally stepped through the mirror.

He would keep it as a reminder.


End file.
